


The Lament of Having Long Distance Calling

by EmeraldSage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Guess how Arthur Finds Out?, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Overprotective England, Parent-Child Relationship, gerame - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:58:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10867635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Or rather, "How Not to tell your Psychotic Former Empire parent that you just got married to one of his former Major Enemies at a drunken wedding in Las Vegas."Oh yeah.  That's gonna go real well.





	The Lament of Having Long Distance Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god...this. @gerame, I hope you like it dear.

            There were many other ways he could’ve woken up. All of them were more pleasant than hearing his bratty former colony’s voice come over the phone’s speaker singing a drunken rendition of his national anthem. For a split second, he thought he might be dreaming. Then, as the music just seemed to get _louder_ , he growled, arm lashing out to snag the phone, swearing bloody, merciless revenge against his brat for changing the ringtone, and slid his finger across the screen.

            “ _WHAT?!_ ”

            “ _Daaaaaaaddddy!!!!!!~~”_ a voice giggled on the other end, “ _Hi dad!!!_ ”

            _Oh god_ , he thought with mounting dread, even as a sliver of warmth wrapped around his heart at the address, _he’s completely sloshed_.

            “Alfred?” he asked warily, and the giggles on the other end intensified. Then there was an abrupt silence.

            “… _I did something, Daddy,_ ” oh Lord, what now? He sat up with an inaudible sigh, pushing himself to sit against the headboard and flicked his light on. He wouldn’t be getting to sleep anytime soon.

            “What did you do this time, poppet?” _Gentle_ , he told himself. America always got weepy if he started yelling at the brat while he was drunk; he was more sensitive than usual in those cases. There was no need to spend hours listening to him blubber and sob instead of telling him what he was _actually_ doing. “Where are you, my dear?”

            Loud giggling, “ _LAS VEGAS!!!!_ ” was abruptly shouted into the phone, and he yanked the phone away from his ear with a yelp before he glared at it. _Calm_ , he told himself, even though he was already pushing it with the lack of sleep.

            _Wait a tic –_

            “Did you say _Las Vegas_ , Alfred?!” After what had happened the _last_ time they’d been to Las Vegas, Alfred’s boss of the time had sworn his nation would never set foot in that city by himself. That was, of course, an incredibly hard rule to enforce when said nation could use intra-border travel and escape into the masses with hardly a pebble out of place, but most of the nations that had been along with Alfred on that particular expedition had supported the decree. There were things that city inspired in the young nation that none of them wanted to face without copious amounts of alcohol and a written will.

            “’ _m not aloooone, daddy,_ ” he could _hear_ Alfred pouting through the phone, “ _Lutz is with meeee! I gots married to my hunky Germany honey boooooi,_ ” the word trailed off into giggles, but they lodged themselves into his brain and set the neurons on _fire_.

            …did he just say _married_?!!!!!

            _Married. German. **Lutz**._

            He _didn’t_ …

            “ _…and the fountain’s all pretty, daddy! It’s all shinny like my new ring!_ ” he choked at that declaration, “ _And it’s sooooooooo big, Daddy! But all the Marriotts are big…_ ”

            He jumped on that, “So you’re at a Marriott in Las Vegas, dear?”

            “ _Mhmmm,_ ” the giggling was starting again, but this time he could hear another voice in the background. A male voice that was sounding increasingly familiar, despite how accented and slightly slurred it was.

            A _very_ familiar rage was drawing itself up to the surface.

            “ _Imma call you later, daddy!_ ” his bright, drunk little boy chirped, “ _I gotta have sex now._ ” And with that, the phone disconnected, and all he could hear was the dial tone.

            Say _WHAT_ now?!

            “ ** _ALFRED!!!_** ” screeched through the entire neighborhood, waking sleeping neighbors, scaring away strays (cats and human alike), and sending the area into a moment of trembling terror at the pure, condensed rage that echoed for hours after the livid shout.

            Over five thousand miles away, Alfred abruptly froze, the sudden lack of movement startling his partner, who looked back at him concerned. And even as Alfred grinned and returned to his happy, drunken babbling as his newly officiated husband carried him over the threshold of their Vegas hotel room, he couldn’t help dismiss the niggling sensation in the back of his mind that something was about to go very, _very_ wrong.

* * *

           The sunshine was the first thing that penetrated his awareness. It was only a single shaft of sunlight that had managed to slip around the heavyweight curtain that had been so thoughtfully drawn last night, before either of them had gotten too involved with each other to think about anything else, but it was enough. He buried his face into his pillow with a groan, mind throbbing at the sunlight, and then at the sound that seemed to bounce around his mind like it was a subway station and he was standing right next to the incoming train, horn and all.

            Well, at least he knew he’d gotten drunk last night. That was just about all he _could_ remember.

            There was a shift next to him on the bed, and he stiffened reflexively until he recognized the dismayed _oh god it’s morning_ groan that came along with the arm slung around his waist. He hid a smile in his pillow, even as the other came to life behind him, pulling him closer.

            Ludwig only _looked_ like a morning person. Disturb him before his morning coffee, and you met a downright monster.

            The other shuffled around behind him, pushing up on his elbows and maneuvering himself until Ludwig had wrapped around him completely, humming into his neck. “ _Guten Morgen_ , _Liebling_.”

            Despite the way his head was throbbing, Alfred smiled, “Mornin’ Darlin’,” he smiled in response, turning to look over his shoulder at the grumpy, but warm, ice blue eyes that met him. He was completely unsurprised when he was yanked onto his other side and drawn into a kiss that drove up a fierce tattoo to in his veins.

            The kiss had easily heated into something familiar, warm and intoxicating and undeniably fervent as it developed. It could have gone much farther than it did – it would have, actually – had Alfred not caught sight of something silver gleaming on his hand in the sliver of sunshine. And stared.

            “Alfred,” Ludwig growled, huffy and frustrated at the abrupt halt in their activities, eyes darkening as he pushed himself up, ready to snap at the other. Right up until he noticed what had totally captivated his lover.

            Or rather, his _husband_.

            Because, _oh please don’t tell me_ , that was a **_wedding ring_. ** And they were wearing matching ones.

            Completely stunned, blue met blue, utterly silent until Alfred asked, hoarsely, “What the hell did we do last night?”

            “Aside from getting married?” Ludwig responded dryly, eyes dropping to the modest diamond-studded ring that adorned his lover’s left hand.

            About to agree, a fleeting thought caught in his mind, and he scrambled for his phone, ignoring Ludwig’s startled glance. He tugged it off its charger – how he’d remembered to charge it last night would forever remain a mystery – and held it up triumphantly. An understanding noise escaped his companion.

            Snapchat would hold the answer.

            He quickly flipped past pictures and videos he’d taken early on in the day, going right up until the last Snap he remembered posting, before letting it play.

            The first video gave them no doubt about what had happened – not that their killer hangovers would let them forget – and watching seven seconds after seven seconds of Ludwig downing six-packs like they held water in the middle of a desert, Alfred occasionally popping up with a cocktail or a shot of whiskey and cheering him on emphatically, made it obviously clear why they couldn’t remember a damned thing.

            “Daaamn,” he whistled, despite the wince and the growl that Ludwig sent him as his headache started anew, “were you going for a record last night, Lutz?” He’d already lost track of how many six packs had hit the floor, completely crushed under the weight of Ludwig’s phenomenal alcohol tolerance.

            “I can’t remember when I stopped,” he was informed, warily, and Alfred threw the other a look that said, _no shit, really?_ Then, he eyed their hotel room, including the completely ransacked mini-bar.

            “Dude,” he snickered, “I don’t think you _did_.”

            “ _Heeeeeeey!_ ” his drunken voice from the video snapped their attention back to the screen. There was a brief glimpse of Alfred’s grinning face before the camera flipped and suddenly zoomed in on the crotch area of, presumably, Ludwig’s pants. Alfred snorted and Ludwig groaned as the video played, and his voice rang out, slurred and undoubtedly drunk, “ _I’m ‘bout to be married to this DICK!_ ” before video-Alfred started giggling uncontrollably as someone in the background was explaining the marriage contract.

            Ludwig snatched the phone from him as the video switched into a picture of his and Ludwig’s matching wedding rings, the caption of “Happily Married ^^” typed up surprisingly legible given their drunken states, and Alfred collapsed into a pile of helpless giggles. He was absolutely not put out by the exasperated glare his lover was sending him.

            His Snapchat story, Alfred mused, was like a trail of humiliation, lined up in ascending order of hilarity, much like an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos – which, come to think of it, would make a fantastic title for this epic saga of _I’m completely and utterly doomed_.

            Because while he loved every moment of what he could see had happened last night – despite the fact that he was only just starting to remember it – he had already seen who all had seen his story. Prussia had already sent him a laughing icon with a bunch of beer icons and a ball and chain, which he _would_ show to Ludwig, if only to see him go bright red. But under the weight of all the response chats he’d been sent, there was one glaring name that topped the list.

            _Arthur was going to **murder** him._

            " _My boo iz a sexy beast_ ," his voice declared loudly from the video, drawing his attention from his impending doom back to the phone " _check this,_ " and then the camera swung precariously, barely catching a glimpse of a bare-chested Ludwig - who...didn't look like he was wearing anything else...at all - before said German yelped and tackled the American snapchatter with a growl and the video went dark.

            There was silence in the room for a long second as the Snapchat story page pulled up. And then Alfred glanced over at Ludwig, and the impossibly red hue his face was turning.

            "So," he said conversationally, "I think I tried to flash you to the rest of the world."

            He shrieked as Ludwig tackled him back onto the bed, phone flying off to parts of the room unknown, and fingers seeking out ticklish places. The laughter burbled out of him uncontrollably, and the tried desperately to get away from quick fingers to no great success.

            He latched onto the sheets and yanked himself away from Ludwig, flipping onto his front and pushing off the bed, only to be caught again by a swift yank from the grinning German, who wrapped his arms around his waist, holding them together chest to chest.

            “That would’ve been a fantastic picture,” he said, grinning, even as Ludwig eyed him with an exasperated fondness.

            “I would’ve never lived it down,” he murmured in dismay and no small amount of relief, and Alfred laughed, nodding. Prussia, for one, would’ve held it over his little brother for _ages_.

            The abrupt chorus of Johann Strauss's Homage to Queen Victoria shattered the playful mood between the two, and they glanced at each other, because they both recognized the ring tone. It played for another minute or so, before the call went to voicemail. They stared anxiously, waiting for it to restart – hoping it wouldn’t – and indeed, it did. Loudly.

            Alfred dove for the phone, which had fallen to the floor during their tickle-fight-thing, and slipped it into his hand just in time to accept the call. He lifted the phone to his ear, and fairly chirped, "S'up, Iggy," pushing down all the anxiety to sound as cheerful as he could, "Whatcha doin'?"

            "None of that now," Arthur's voice cut through, clear, crisp, and composed, and Alfred glanced at Ludwig in confusion, "are you still at the Marriott?"

            "Um, how did you know what hotel I'm staying at?" He shrugged at Ludwig's sudden expression of alarm.

            "Why, you told me last night, poppet," and suddenly, he could remember the deceptively sweet and charming tone that Arthur used when he was absolutely livid and wanted to pry something out of you at the same time, and he paled because he would’ve had _no_ filter when he was drunk, "Or rather, this morning. When you called me at four in the morning to tell me that you, and _Germany_ ," there was a growl in his voice now, and the voice was loud enough that Ludwig could hear it off of speakerphone, "have gotten,” another sharp breath, beating back a growl, “ _married_."

            There was no way anyone could mistake the last word as anything other than a snarl. Alfred swallowed, and told himself he wasn't scared of his father...anymore.

            “Really Ig – Dad,” he corrected consciously, knowing the title would either placate the other or incense his feelings of outrage even more, “everything’s fine! It’s a little early, so we were just gonna grab breakfast and stuff -,”

            “Not what I asked, Alfred,” the voice was chiding, even as it was cold, and he winced. “I’ll take that as a yes. Stay put, before I tell your boss just where you’ve decided to hole yourself up in,” and there was a click, before the dial tone reasserted itself as the superior sound on the phone. It also told them that the currently terrifying father of the - eh, was it the bride or the groom? - American had hung up and was currently en route to their hotel. They looked at each other.

            Alfred cleared his throat, "Flee for our lives?"

            "What happened to the hero not running from danger?" Ludwig asked dryly, but his voice wavered a tad.

            "I'll be okay," he shrugged, "but I kinda prefer you with your dick intact. I thought we would be on the same page on that one."

            "Stairs or the fire escape?" Ludwig asked, not a heartbeat later, and Alfred grinned.

            "How 'bout the roof?"

            There was a large crash that interrupted Ludwig’s response, a clatter rose up to tickle their ears from the front entrance below them, and loud, familiar British swearing was prominent amongst the many voices. They froze. Ludwig gulped.

            "Sir,” a harried voice shouted through the chaos, audible even as high up as they were, “you can't bring an actual sword into the hotel! Do you even have a permit for that?! Can someone, for the love of God -" the voice trailed off hysterically, just as another, more familiar and equally terrifying voice took its place.

            "I don't need a bloody fucking permit to castrate my son-in-law! Now move aside before I use my _bloody sword_ on _your_ mangy ass, you ****!!!!!"

            Shrieks, crashes and bangs emerged through the window. They looked at each other again.

            "Flee?"

            "Which way?"


End file.
